


a little water clears us

by laddybants



Series: what happens after [1]
Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: But Not Much, Canon Era, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Morning After, Post-Canon, a travesty if you ask me, angus is mentioned quite a bit but a) not actually in it and b) there's no character tag for angus, i'm venting that's my excuse, in regards to the 'morning after' tag: nothing is shown but it is stated that they Did It, macduff is physically there but he doesn't say anything, menteith and caithness are ALSO both mentioned but very very briefly, this is how i get through GCSE english
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-24 04:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19716679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laddybants/pseuds/laddybants
Summary: saudade- (portugese) the feeling of longing for someone you love and which is lost





	a little water clears us

**Author's Note:**

> you know when you can't sleep and also you're gay? yeah that's why i wrote this. bon appetite.

Macduff is strong and rough and brave, all the things he wants to be. Next to him, Malcolm feels weak and malleable, like he just slept with a man who doesn't deserve to go to hell. 

Because that's what he did, isn't it? That's why he’s curled around Macduff in his own tent, wearing nothing. The light seeps in, bathing the pair in shame and making visible what should never have existed to be seen in the first place. 

Malcolm feels, not for the first time in his life, disgusting. He knows what he is and he cannot change it. But it feels too much like he's pulling Macduff down with him, and Macduff is above that. He's sure of it. 

Any moment now, Macduff will awake and see Malcolm as he truly is - as he has been all this time. He will look at his king with disgust and contempt and betrayal. How could he? How could he have kept something like this from his subjects? How could he tempt Macduff into this? Surely he wouldn't have wanted it, Malcolm thinks. 

Maybe they didn't do anything at all, hopes a small part of him. This is a misunderstanding. He can simply unfold himself and pull away from Macduff, both short and long term. He will dress and wait outside, talk to Angus or Caithness or Menteith, and ignore any attempt at questioning Macduff might make. 

But then he might lose him. And Malcolm can't do that. It's too terrifying - like losing air when your head goes underwater and you need it most. Like losing your father and your brother in one night, staring death in the face as he sleeps eternally and never seeing either again. Like watching your mother relent and give in to the fever. Like standing in a foreign country and watching a man you've admired all your life break into sobs and crumple in front of you, while you watch, helpless. 

No. He cannot lose him. Malcolm must face ... this, whatever it is. At least then he can tell himself he tried to salvage what was left of the trust between them, after Macduff inevitably leaves him. 

After laying there for a considerable amount of time, Malcolm opts to do something in between the two choices. He will wash and dress - it's late enough - and then he'll face Macduff. He pulls on a shirt and trousers and quietly slips out of the tent. 

-

The river isn't far. They chose this spot to be close to it before the battle, so they could drink and bathe without having to look for water after it was over. Malcolm approaches the river bank and takes off his shirt, leaving it hanging limp on a nearby branch. The trousers come off next, and then he's laid bare before any watchers. Idly he wonders if what he is inside can be seen on his flushed cheeks and shaky chest as he wades in. 

The water is cold and sharp. He gasps. The sound it makes is small and unbecoming and fragile, and Malcolm forces his head under. When he resurfaces, the cold isn’t so bad. He feels cleaner and clearer of mind. The idea of going back and facing what he did isn’t so daunting. 

He tries to pull together the right words as he sits on the grass, slowly drying. Words are what he's good at - they've gotten him this far. But now they elude him like shadows in summer, just out of reach. It's the fear, he thinks, and then laughs a quiet, hollow laugh. 

He dresses. His clothes stick to him slightly. It doesn't bother him too much, though normally it would. Malcolm's mind is too full of half remembered touches and things he could say to make the person who touched him forget. 

"Good morning, my lord!" calls out a voice. He starts. 

"Ross! You scared me." 

Ross sits down on the bank beside him. 

"How are you this fine morning?"

"Still reeling from the victory last night," Malcolm replies, and it's only half a lie. Ross eyes him knowingly. 

"To which do you refer?"

The question surprises him. He's off guard and his legs have been pulled out from under him and he's fallen to the ground. It disarms Malcolm. "I..." He stumbles on the words. "I don't know what you mean."

Ross's eyes soften and fill with momentary remorse. "Forgive me, my lord, if I overstep, but Macduff slept in your tent last night, did he not?"

And there it is. The whole world already knows, it seems. Malcolm feels like breaking into sobs. "And? What of it?" It comes out sharper than he intended, and he can see the pity on Ross's face. He is, after all, older than Malcolm - he's had long enough to learn what fear looks like. 

"I - it's okay if you - did you...?" The expression that accompanies the implied question is so soft, so open, so caring, that Malcolm finds himself closing his eyes and giving a tight nod. Ross coughs. "I thought so. I've seen how you look at him. No, no, it's only something you'd notice if you knew what to look for."

Ross turns away from him and faces the river, which is still steadily tumbling down the slopes of the land, ever seeking the sea. "You know, this is what I did, the first time I..." He trails off.

"It was before...all this," Ross says after a while. Malcolm doesn't need to ask what he's referring to for both deed and time. "Early autumn. He'd invited me over to go over something, I can't remember what, and it had gotten late, so we just started talking about everything and nothing and one thing led to another and-" here an emotion Malcolm can't place passes over his face "-I kissed him. And things followed. But that was the root of it."

Having said this, Ross shudders slightly. Malcolm wonders if he's ashamed and opens his mouth to ask, but Ross continues. 

"Afterwards, I felt so guilty. My whole life, years of carefully preventing things like that from happening, undone in a single night. I felt like I was the one who was at fault, because he'd never shown any interest in that kind of thing before. So I went down to the river near his castle and tried to wash it off, in a way."

Malcolm isn't breathing. "And then what?" he asks, eyes wide and intent. 

"He came and found me. We talked about what had happened and found that neither of us hadn't wanted it, and that we'd both be happy to do it again, shame be damned. He was more at peace with it than I was, and seeing him so open to the idea made me feel less like it was something I shouldn't have done. It didn't really feel like I'd broken a rule anymore. And anyway, I had enjoyed it." He glances at Malcolm. "I assume you enjoyed it?"

Malcolm's mind races to catch up. He still can't really believe he's not alone, and that Ross has been here the whole time, and, and, and- 

"Yes," he replies. Admitting it feels like jumping into the black water of a loch, terrifying and exhilarating all at once. He slept with Macduff, and he enjoyed it. So, so much. 

Ross smiles. "It's an enjoyable thing, as long as it's with the right person."

"Can I ask," starts Malcolm, but he can sense that Ross already knows how the question ends. "Who was it with?"

"Angus."

"Angus?" he repeats. It's almost unbelievable. Angus is loud and brash where Ross is quiet and unassuming. Angus is broad shoulders and wild hair and painted skin. Ross is neat and contained. It's almost unbelievable, except they both have quick, spirited eyes and never seem to tire of each other's company and Angus often runs to meet Ross after a battle or being apart from him and - oh. Now he understands. 

Malcolm feels like it's exactly the kind of thing he would have seen if he'd only known what to look for. 

"Angus," he says again. "Do you still-?"

"Sometimes. I love him, you know. More than anything in the world."

Now, finally, Malcolm starts to cry. It's a quiet sort of crying, and it's not woeful at all. It's a relief. That people like him can love, that he's capable of loving another man. 

It's the realisation as well - he loves Macduff. He loves his hands and his hair. He loves the way his voice sounds in the early hours of the morning. He loves how gentle Macduff is, his inexhaustible capacity for kindness and belief in the right thing. He loves how Macduff hasn't left him yet, and doesn't seem to want to. 

Malcolm loves him. 

"Well, I suppose I'd better head back," says Ross. He's watching Malcolm with a quiet awe, as if he knows what Malcolm has just realised. He probably does. 

"I'll come with you." Malcolm gets up and offers his hand to Ross. He takes it. 

-

They walk back mostly in silence. The morning unfolds around them. Just before they reach Malcolm's tent, Malcolm whispers "thank you" and ducks into the fabric. Ross is gone when he glances back. 

There's so much he wants to say to Macduff. He wants to tell him how he's not afraid of himself anymore, how he can face whatever Macduff feels, how he loves him. 

But Macduff is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> is this good? yeah, i sure think so. self love. also i trust the opinions of @praesexual and @jjjuiceboxx, who both read this before i posted it
> 
> but even if it ISNT good,,,,,,,you're in the malcolm/macduff tag. you must be pretty desperate (lord knows i am - i've read all the 4 fics in this tag like seven times). at this point i'll take anything.
> 
> the title, fairly obviously, is taken from act 2 scene 2. lady macbeth says it. very obviously i do NOT view gay relationships as the same thing as killing the king of scotland (i myself am Gay) but like,,,,,,,,i needed something with a reference to water and i love stealing titles from pre-existing things
> 
> lmk if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes
> 
> also feel free to shoot me a message on tumblr if you're so inclined! i like talking about these two and/or macbeth in general @damienhirstsdiamondskull


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